


when it's right

by abovetheruins



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Face-Fucking, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 07:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2459093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheruins/pseuds/abovetheruins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>When David arrives at the office on Friday morning, he can tell something is up.</i> Featuring surprise reunions and devious employees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when it's right

**Author's Note:**

> The fact that I just warned for ‘face fucking’ amuses/concerns me to no end, haha. For asweetdownfall, who prompted me with ‘office sex.’

When David arrives at the office on Friday morning, he can tell something is up.

Carly greets him with a chipper, “Morning, boss!” just like every morning, but there’s something almost devious about her expression, like she knows a secret she’s not telling him (David knows that look, okay, Carly’s not the unofficial office gossip for nothing).

He’s a little reluctant to go into his office, just in case she or some of the other employees have decided to prank him – the April Fools incident of ’12 is still fresh in his mind – but everything looks like it’s in its place, his desk in front of the floor length windows, the sofa, coffee table, and bookshelf off to one side, filing cabinets on the other. 

Satisfied that nothing’s going to pop out and scare him – that particular dose of paranoia courtesy of Halloween of ’13, he really needs to have a talk with his employees about pranking their boss – David sinks into his office chair with a little sigh of relief, firing up his laptop and browsing through his schedule for the day. 

He has a skype call with one of the managers of his newest music store at ten o’clock sharp, but other than that the day looks to be a low-key one, work-wise. Carly’s kept his schedule light for some reason, but he doesn’t mind. Maybe after lunch he can visit the new shop in person, make sure the employees are settling in okay. 

The weekend looms long and a little lonely in front of him. The house feels too big with only him in it, but at least he has Cook’s phone calls and the occasional video chat to take away the ache. He spoke to Cook just last night, actually, and he smiles a little goofily as he remembers Cook’s voice rumbling “ _I love you_ ” in his ear before they’d said goodnight.

Gosh, he can’t seem to keep the smile off his face now that it’s there; he spots the framed photo on his desk of he and Cook taken last December, somewhere in the crazy midst of tour dates and the Christmas holiday and their birthdays. They’re both bundled up in coats and scarves, Cook’s arms around his waist and David pressed against his chest, both of them grinning. 

There’s no denying that he misses Cook, a lot, but he also understands that they both have jobs and responsibilities that require their attention, he as the head of his company and Cook as the driving force behind his music career. They manage to carve out time for each other amidst the craziness and the tours and the work, and that’s enough.

Sparing the photo one last fond glance, David gets to work, determined to be productive before his 10 o’clock meeting. 

By the time 9:45 rolls around, he’s called two of the four stores located in the city, perused the sells and stocks accounts (store #1 needs a new shipment of guitars, store #2 is doing well but could use a new employee or two to help with the rush), and he’s checked into the new space he’s had his eye on for the location of store #5. 

David stretches his arms above his head, his neck a little stiff from hunching over the computer, and jumps a bit when his intercom crackles to life.

“Hey boss!” Carly’s voice bursts from the com, excessively cheerful. “Got a visitor for you!” 

“A visitor?” David mutters, wracking his brain and trying to remember if he’d had another meeting scheduled for today but just forgot about it. He draws a blank. Not wanting to ask Carly who it is over the intercom (the visitor’s probably standing by her desk so they’d definitely hear, and David quails at appearing rude), he tells her to send them in.

“Right away, Mr. Archuleta,” Carly chirps, and for the nth time that day David wonders what has her so happy. 

The com goes silent and David leans back into his chair, watching the door with something like apprehension. He’s usually more adept at keeping his schedule up to date (or at least Carly is). He hopes his visitor, whoever it is, doesn’t get offended by David’s negligence. 

A sharp knock sounds at the door and David clears his throat, standing. “Come in!”

The door opens, and in comes –

“ _Oh my gosh_!” David barely registers the squeak of his shoes on the hardwood floor as he throws himself into his visitor’s arms, wrapping his own around their waist, familiar laughter rumbling in his ear as they clasp him back just as tightly. “Oh my gosh, _Cook_. When did you… How did you… ?”

Cook laughs, pulling back to look at him, and David vaguely registers Carly’s laughter drifting into the office before Cook closes the door. 

“I had some time off between gigs,” Cook says, grinning as David’s eyes light up, “and since we were just a state over I decided I’d much rather come spend a few days with you than bum around the city with the guys.”

“And Carly – ?” David asks, because of course she knew, her laughter had proven that much, and that definitely explained her behavior this morning. 

“I wanted it to be a surprise, plus I didn’t want to bug you when you were busy. Carly made sure your schedule was clear so we could hang out.”

“Carly deserves a bonus,” David says, totally serious, though of course Cook still laughs. David doesn’t mind – he’s missed that sound, the way Cook’s whole body moves when he does it, his eyes scrunched up and happy and David’s heart melts a little bit – okay, a lot – at the sight. 

“Oh! I actually do have a meeting, though, in about – “ He glances at the clock above the sofa. “ – oh gosh, ten minutes!”

“I’m in no hurry,” Cook assures him, cupping David’s cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of David’s mouth. “We’ve got all weekend to get caught up. I just couldn’t wait to see you.” His eyes go all soft and dark, his thumb catching on David’s bottom lip, and David doesn’t think he’s imagining the heated atmosphere building in the lack of space between them. “So, were you surprised?”

David nods slowly, eyes flicking from Cook’s eyes to his lips and back, a gesture he knows Cook notices, if the hand tightening around his waist is any indication, and suddenly all that David wants is for Cook to kiss him. “Cook, can you – ?” he starts, still a little shy about these things, but Cook knows exactly what he wants, and David nearly sags with relief as his boyfriend leans down the scant few inches between them and kisses him slowly, his thumb brushing against their joined mouths.

David’s not even a little embarrassed by the needy sound that escapes him as Cook’s lips press against his (though if he were a little more aware of his surroundings at the moment he would probably be mortified at himself, oh gosh). He clenches his fingers in Cook’s shirt, closing his eyes as Cook’s tongue presses at the seam of his lips, pushing through and tangling with David’s own and _oh_ , David’s missed this. It’s been months since they were even in the same room, and one of the only advantages to a long distance relationship is how new every kiss feels when it’s been so long between them. 

It actually is a little embarrassing how quickly David’s body reacts to Cook’s kisses, his business casual slacks tightening as Cook’s mouth moves against his, and his boyfriend’s not helping matters at all, his big hand sliding from David’s waist to press, warm and insistent, against the developing bulge in his pants.

David’s gasp can’t drown out the tell-tale skype ringtone echoing from his computer; he pulls away from Cook with a groan, eyes wide and muttering, “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” under his breath.

Cook’s barely holding back his laughter, David can tell, but at least he helps David flatten down his hair and fix his clothes, pressing a quick, rough kiss to his forehead before nudging him toward his desk. 

“Go get ‘em, babe,” he mock whispers, and David’s torn between smiling goofily – he can still feel Cook’s mouth against his and his hand against David’s, um – and glaring at the man, because really, that was so not appropriate office behavior!

David takes a deep, calming breath before sliding into his chair, clicking ‘accept call’ and smiling as a familiar head of blonde curls appears on screen.

“Good morning, Brooke!” he chirps, hoping his lips don’t look too red or swollen and that he doesn’t look like he was just making out with his gorgeous rock star boyfriend in his office. 

“Good morning, David!” Brooke’s the manager at his newest store. She loves music and teaches piano on the weekends, has a beautiful little girl and is one of the hardest working people David’s ever met. Her passion for music had been what had sealed the deal for David when he had conducted the interviews for the managerial position, and Brooke had done an amazing job at it in the intervening months. 

“How are we doing over there?” David starts, completely immersed in the conversation despite the twinge of, um, friction he feels each time he shifts in his chair. “I was planning on dropping by later this afternoon to take a look.”

“Oh, that’s great! You can tell me what you think of the décor and shelf space and everything. Ramiele and Danny have been helping me set everything up, but we wanted your opinion on it before we started shelving stock. Oh, and also – “

David’s listening – he is! – but he can’t help the way his eyes are drawn to Cook, especially as his boyfriend moves across the room, standing just at the edge of David’s desk. He hadn’t had a chance to really _look_ at Cook, before, had been too busy throwing himself into the other man’s arms, but now that he has a few moments he can’t help but stare, his mouth a little dry as Cook leans back on his heels, allowing him to look his fill.

Cook’s wearing a button-down black shirt; it clings to his chest and stomach, shows off the strength and girth of his forearms, which, um, David’s got a weakness for Cook’s arms, always has. The dark jeans he’s wearing mold to his hips and thighs, topped off by his ridiculous cowboy boots, and he hasn’t bothered to fix his hair or straighten his clothing from their little session earlier, his lips all red and swollen from their kisses and David really needs to stop looking at him _right now_.

He focuses guiltily on what Brooke is saying – she’s going over the stock items they’d received the other day, and David makes it a point to listen, focusing on nothing else, and so the fingers sliding up the insides of his thighs a few minutes later startle him so badly he nearly topples out of his chair.

“David?” Brooke asks, concerned. “Are you okay?”

David coughs to cover up a sudden bout of hysterical laughter because Cook is _under his desk_ , on his knees, looking up at him with a self-satisfied smirk and dark eyes, and his fingers are slowly plucking at David’s undershirt, pressing at the bulge between his legs.

“I-I’m fine, Brooke,” he stammers out, trying to push Cook’s fingers away. If he looks down for too long Brooke will notice, she’ll know something’s up, and David cannot have that conversation with his sweet-natured employee, he just _can’t_. “Now, um, what were you saying about the keyboard shipment?”

“Oh, yes! Well – “

David shivers as Cook’s fingers pull deftly at his zipper, undoing it in tiny increments so that the sound doesn’t seem so obvious. It still sounds like a shot in David’s ears, his cheeks and nose flooding with warmth (gosh, he hopes Brooke doesn’t notice), as Cook’s hand slides into his slacks, fingers slipping beneath his underwear and – oh _god_ – pulling him out, his callused fingertips catching on the head of David’s cock. 

David makes a sound, he can’t help it, and as Brooke’s voice trails off he thinks _this is it_ , she _knows_ , he’s going to _kill_ Cook for this –

“Oh, did you not want to take a look now?” she asks, and what? “I know you said you were going to come down later today, but I thought you’d like to do a quick run-through anyway.” And oh, the store! 

“No, no, that’s fine, I’d love to see it!” David wonders if his voice sounds as high to Brooke as it does to his own ears. “Let’s do that.” 

Brooke smiles. “Excellent! Okay, here we go – “ She lifts up the tablet she’s using, and David tries to pay attention as she begins showing him the interior of the store, telling him where this will go and what those shelves are for but oh, it’s so _hard_ to stay focused when Cook’s sliding his fist up and down the length of David’s cock, his head resting against David’s knee. If David strains his ears he can hear the wet sound of Cook’s fingers spreading precome down the head, the huffs of Cook’s breath. 

He risks a glance down at his boyfriend just in time to see Cook suck the head of David’s dick into his mouth, staring up at David’s face the entire time, and David bites the meat of his palm to keep from keening, clenching his free hand around the edge of his desk. All the while Brooke’s voice filters in, cheery and completely oblivious to what’s going on in her boss’ office.

“I’ve decided to display the guitars here, and then this section is reserved for the drums – “ 

Cook curls his tongue, flicking the tip against David’s slit in that way that drives him _crazy_ , and his boyfriend’s hands are everywhere, palming the insides of his thighs, rubbing against his slacks until warmth blooms in their wake, pulling at David’s undershirt, fingers questing underneath to brush tantalizingly against his twitching stomach muscles. David feels like he can’t _breathe_ , has to fight not to thrust his hips, wrap his fingers in Cook’s hair, anything to feel more of that hot, wet pressure around his cock.

“Danny and Ramiele worked on this display in the front window, I think they did a wonderful job – “

David opens his eyes – doesn’t even remember closing them – and nearly groans at the sight of Cook’s mouth sinking down over his cock, his head bobbing as he takes more of David’s length, and David notices, through the haze of lust and fear – that he’ll be caught, that he won’t be able to stay quiet – and yes, even excitement, that Cook’s free hand, the one not curled against David’s stomach, catching in the trail of hair leading down to his cock, is moving beneath the desk, between his legs, and oh gosh, David can see the red, wet head of Cook’s dick pushing through the tight ring of his own fingers.

“So, that’s about it!” The tablet’s view shakes and starts to spin around; David jerks upright, hiding his abused palm beneath the web cam’s view, and attempts to look normal as Brooke’s face reappears. “What did you think?”

“Everything looks great!” David inwardly applauds as his voice comes out more or less normally, if a little husky, and smiles his brightest “I’m a professional” smile. “You’ve all done a wonderful job, Brooke.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Brooke teases, though David can tell she’s pleased. 

Cook suddenly sucks, hard, and David hears a soft, throaty groan from under his desk as the wet-slick sound of flesh against flesh intensifies.

“Um, yes! Wonderful job!” David’s fists are white-knuckled under the desk, he’s shivering with barely withheld restraint; he needs to end this call _now_. “Um, I’ll be in a little later today to check in on things in person, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll see you then!” Brooke waves happily, and then – finally – the screen goes dark.

David slams his head back against his chair, sliding it back so he can reach underneath his desk and slide his fingers into Cook’s hair, unable to resist pulling at the strands, pressing his fingertips to the back of Cook’s head, panting as Cook licks a stripe up the underside of David’s dick before pulling off with a loud, wet pop.

“You can do it,” Cook pants, his voice rough. He curls his hands around David’s in his hair, pushing them against his scalp, and David whimpers at the picture he makes, on his knees with his cock jutting from his open jeans, his lips red and abused. “I know you want to. Do it, Archie.”

Hearing his nickname from those well-loved lips, watching them descend over his cock again, David can’t hold back anymore. He grips Cook’s hair beneath his fingers and thrusts into his open, waiting mouth.

Cook groans around his cock, the office silent save for the ticking of the clock and the wet rasp of Cook’s lips against his skin, the rush of David’s panting breaths. He looks through eyes half-closed in pleasure at his gorgeous boyfriend, saliva and precome at the corners of his lips, trailing into his beard, and David speeds up, snapping his hips forward, fucking Cook’s red, wet, _beautiful_ mouth.

It doesn’t take long, a few short, frantic thrusts before the coils in David’s stomach snap apart, a long, low groan leaving his throat as he comes, the feel of Cook swallowing around him enough to wring another shaky moan from his mouth. 

Cook tongues his softening cock until David can’t bear the stimulation, easing off of him with a last, lingering kiss to the head that has David shivering weakly, slumping into his chair. Cook rests his head on David’s thigh, breathing harshly, and looks up through dark, glittering eyes at David’s flushed, sated face.

“Missed you, baby,” he rasps, pressing a kiss to David’s thigh that David can feel even through his slacks. Cook’s still hard, precome leaking from the head of his cock, and David _keens_ , shoving his chair back as he falls to his knees, reaching for Cook and wrapping his fingers around that warm, heavy girth.

Cook groans into his neck, his hips snapping forward, and David knows this isn’t going to take long. He wraps his fingers tight and slick around Cook’s dick, pumping in short, almost angry strokes, just the way Cook likes it, and he presses their open, panting mouths together, too uncoordinated to be called a kiss, more a sharing of breath than anything else, and when Cook comes a few strokes later David swallows his long, sated moan.

They stay slumped against each other for a few moments, catching their breath, and Cook rests his head in the warm hollow of David’s throat, looking up at him with his usual teasing grin.

“Quite a welcome home, eh, Archuleta?”

“Oh my _gosh_ , Cook!” David pushes his head away with a laugh. “What if Brooke had figured out what you were doing? Totally inappropriate!”

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” Cook says, winking, and David blushes as his boyfriend grabs the box of tissues from his desk, wiping himself off before tucking himself back into his pants. It takes David a second to realize that’s he still, um, exposed, and oh my gosh, the door isn’t even locked!

“The door isn’t even locked!” 

Cook laughs as David hurriedly tucks himself back in his slacks. “I’m sure Carly was aware that she should steer clear for a while,” he says, and David blushes – again – because yeah, he’s pretty sure Carly knows exactly what just happened. 

“Hey.” David looks up, smiling when Cook pulls him closer, resting their foreheads together. “I really did miss you, you know? It’s good to be home.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” David says, closing his eyes, and he is, even if Cook is terribly inappropriate at times and likes to, whatever, accost David in his office, David loves him, and he’s so happy that they have the entire weekend together to look forward to.

(He’s totally going to have a talk with Carly about conspiring with rock star boyfriends against her boss, though. Seriously.)


End file.
